


London Streets

by highfunctioningsarcastic



Category: Enola Holmes (2020)
Genre: Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Rivalry, Tea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27286081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highfunctioningsarcastic/pseuds/highfunctioningsarcastic
Summary: A series of vignettes exploring the evolution of Edith and Sherlock's friendship and eventual relationship.
Relationships: Edith Grayston/Sherlock Holmes
Comments: 22
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

She’s closing the tea shop for the evening when Eudoria’s middle child bangs on the front door. She does her best to ignore him, but the neighbors will hear and investigate, and she has a vested interest in maintaining the tacit agreement that she will run her shop and they will leave her alone so long as they remain undisturbed. She opens the door a crack.

“What are you doing here?”

“Good evening, Miss Grayston. May I come in?”

“What are you doing here, Mr Holmes? Your mother isn’t here. Your sister isn’t here. I’m closing now, and if you want tea you can come back when I open tomorrow.” He puts his foot in the door before she can close it.

“I don’t want tea. If you were going to tell someone you loved them with flowers, how would you do it?” 

“I don’t understand your meaning. Please take your foot out of the door.”

“You wouldn’t do it with an oleander bouquet. Why? Because it’s poisonous. It also more commonly means caution, but it was sent to her lover with a love letter. If she weren’t trying to kill him, she would have sent pink or red roses. Why oleander?”

“Again, Mr Holmes, I don’t know why you’re asking me. Floriography has never been one of my favored pursuits.”

“You are a woman, and you can be discreet. You’re the only person of my acquaintance, save Enola, who fits both those categories that I can find on a regular basis.”

“I’m not interested in getting caught up in your cases,” she says.

“Ask Enola. I have a tea shop to run tomorrow morning, and it’s very late.” He stares at her, processing the implication, before allowing her to shut the door, and she breathes a sigh of relief.


	2. Chapter 2

He makes his way back to her tea shop the next morning, there when she changes the sign, smiles when she opens the door with the beginnings of a frown etched on her forehead.

“Miss Grayston.”

“Mr Holmes,” she says, opening the door wider. He follows her into the back room as she pulls the day’s first cakes out of the oven. “How can I help you this morning?”

“You told me to ask Enola, and I can’t. Not about this.” To any other person, seeing the famously unemotional Sherlock Holmes apparently emotional might be rattling. Not Edith. She’s been acquainted with her own share of men, and none of them ever had a good reason for hiding something from their family.

“Why not, may I ask? She’s a sight more of a detective than I, and she could get her friend, that ‘useless boy’ to help with the floriography.” Sherlock hesitates.

“What I am about to tell you does not leave this room.” Edith nods once. “The letter was sent to Viscount Tewkesbury. My sister cannot know of the sender’s existence or her relation to the viscount. As he cannot deny knowing the young woman, who he met on his travels last year, Enola must not see the letter.”

“If I may speak plainly,” Edith says, well aware that she will anyway, “why can’t Enola know of this young woman?”

“Tewkesbury is desperate that Enola not know before he can make certain arrangements. What those may be, I am not at liberty to discuss.” Edith looks at Sherlock, hard, before nodding again.

“Well, as you said yesterday, oleander can symbolise warning. What she is trying to warn Tewkesbury of may be understood from the letter. Do you have it?”

“No,” Sherlock says, “but I will return when I do.”


	3. Chapter 3

“It was understood that our discussion the other day was not to leave this room.” Sherlock Holmes is sitting at a table in the front of her tea shop, and Edith stifles a smug smile as she draws up a chair and pours tea for both of them.

“It didn’t.”

“Then why, pray, has she sent Tewkesbury an accusatory letter with fifteen misspellings and otherwise vanished from the streets of London?”

“I told her in this room.” Sherlock slams his teacup down so hard it rattles, and Edith winces.

“You had no right to so.”

“Your sister has been betrayed or left by nearly everyone she knows. How would she feel if she knew you and Tewkesbury were actively hiding--” Edith sniffs the air and nearly runs to the kitchen, pulling a batch of cakes from the oven before they burn. Sherlock follows her, unconscious of the other patrons’ stares, whispering furiously.

“The Tewkesbury case did not concern her.”

“She and that useless boy are as near courting you can be without being engaged to be married. When he receives a threatening letter, it is absolutely her business.” Sherlock shows all signs of desiring to interrupt. “As you know, Enola does not place trust in others lightly, and I value the trust she places in me rather more than your requests for help in a case that would cause her far more pain if she didn’t hear of it early on.” He meets her glare with frustrating ease, stands, and nods politely.

“I can see that you are distraught,” Sherlock said shortly. “I will not bother you for further help with the Tewkesbury case.” Edith is aware that manners would warrant apologising for her behaviour, but instead she nods and watches as he leaves and shuts the door behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock pauses outside his flat, though he knows Mrs. Hudson will have a fit if she learns Enola and Tewkesbury are alone and engaged; he’s supposed to be telling her they require a chaperone.  _ Engaged. _ His little sister is far too young for such a thing, but perhaps he is getting old. 

Tewkesbury ‘settled things’ with the Spanish comtessa out of the public eye; she was not brought to Basilwether and that the marquess did not go to Castile, for he has been in London, alone or with Enola, so Sherlock is unsure of how it was settled. Instead of informing Mrs. Hudson of the socially-frowned-upon situation upstairs, he hails a cab and sets off for Edith’s--Miss Grayston’s.

“Good afternoon, Miss Grayston,” he says. “Have you any more of your famous lemon cake?”

“Has the Tewkesbury case been settled? You know you’re not welcome here until it has.” He sits down at a table and peruses the menu before he deigns to answer; Edith--Miss Grayston--is entirely too beautiful when she’s being passionate about something. _No, Sherlock. Not beautiful. You haven’t time for a wife, for heaven’s sake._ “The happy couple is engaged; the situation with Comtessa Maria was settled in private.”

“And you’d give twenty pounds to know what, exactly, Tewkesbury means by that.” Sherlock lifts a brow, but unlike other women of his acquaintance, Edith neither blushes nor looks away.

“I might.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“While Tewkesbury’s letter was Enola’s?”

“They’re engaged, aren’t they? If a gentleman I was nearly engaged to was receiving threats and love letters, I would consider it very much my business.”

“Is there such a gentleman?” Edith stares.

“No, there is not,” she says, collecting herself. “Excuse me.” 

He watches her return to the kitchen with an unreadable expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in two days?? i must be procrastinating on a project due tomorrow


	5. Chapter 5

“Why are you back here again?” Sherlock’s habit of arriving just when she closes her tea shop is beginning to grate on Edith; if it’s not for cases, it’s because he worked through tea-time and knows that he can plant himself at one of her tables and aggravate her until she gives him tea just to get him to leave. “My fire already went out, and I’m not stoking it up again just since you’re working through your society-given breaks.”

“I’m not here for tea today, though your concern is registered,” Sherlock says, a hint of a smile in his voice. It’s lucky it’s dark, Edith thinks as she wills the heat away from her face.

“What are you here for, then, Mr. Holmes?”

“Will you do me the honor of accompanying me to the theatre Saturday next?”

Edith’s shock is sufficient to render the door to her now-closed tea shop open, and Sherlock readily takes advantage of her lapse. She follows him inside, and they sit at the table nearest the kitchen, where it’s least likely that they’ll be seen.

“The theatre? You’ve taken leave of your senses.”

“On the contrary.” He casts his eye toward the kitchen and she curses him and the clearly still-hot stove before rallying.

“You can’t possibly be serious, and as I do not appreciate being mocked, I must ask you to leave.”

“Without tea? That’s quite unlike you, Miss Grayston.”

“You know when I’m open for business, and that was finished well over an hour ago. I’m only still here because I like to finish cleaning and preparing for tomorrow…”

“Tomorrow is the Lord’s day. Surely you won’t be open.”

“I’ll accompany you to the theatre if you leave me alone until then.”

“I’ll call for you at seven,” Sherlock says, and departs.


	6. Chapter 6

Edith is waiting outside when Sherlock arrives precisely at seven. Well aware she does not understand why he’s taking her to the theatre, the fact that she agreed is more than enough encouragement for him.

“You’re on time,” she observes. “I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”

“You are as charming as ever, Miss Grayston,” he returns.

“What play are we seeing? I hear The Nihilists is playing…”

“ I thought you might be interested in Romeo and Juliet. It’s being given at the Globe.”

Once at the theatre, they find their seats without much difficulty; due to a favour owed him by the house manager, Sherlock was able to secure excellent seats. (He’s generally loathe to call such favors in, but he did find the man’s daughter, and he wants to show Edith a good time.)

He is constantly aware of how close they are during the performance, and after weighing taking her hand in the darkened theatre, determines it’s far less likely she would come again if he does. Despite his best efforts, he is easily recognized, and if only half of London knows he brought a lady to the theatre, the other half will know by morning.

He walks her back to her flat the long way after the lovers’ untimely demise. Either Edith does not notice or she is willing to be in his company a while longer; she does not object.

“Did you enjoy the play?” He finally breaks their shared reverie.

“I did,” she says, very low. They have reached her flat. “Thank you for this evening.”

Without thinking, he leans down and kisses her. After a long moment, Edith steps back, pressing her mouth tightly.

“I can’t,” she says quietly, unlocking the door, shutting it, and leaving him in the street. “I’m sorry.”


	7. Chapter 7

It’s the third batch of pies she’s burnt this week, and Edith wonders if she’s losing her mind. She was not wrong to reject Sherlock’s advances; it is utterly impossible that the two of them could ever ‘work’. He’s nearly married to his work, no matter how wonderful last Saturday was, and she’s plenty of work to keep her occupied. She’s practically been neglecting the martial arts studio in favor of doing everything in the tea shop herself. _It isn’t in case Sherlock stops by_ , Edith insists to herself. _I’m just steering it until we’re in better financial waters_.

Even when she doesn’t say them aloud, the words ring hollow.

On Friday, she’s nearly reached the end of the day when Enola drops in.

“How’ve you been, Edith?” Unconsciously or not, Enola has taken to waving her hands about when she talks or does anything, letting the tiny diamond she let Tewkesbury get her flash in the sunlight.

“Quite well, thank you. How are you and your young lord? Still the reformers?”

“Yes. He’s taken some days off this session for his mother to help us plan the wedding, but he’ll soon be off for the summer.”

“That’s well and right.”

“It is,” Enola agrees with a smile. “Have you seen Sherlock lately? I could swear he’s been avoiding me, but I know you saw him Saturday.”

“I’d prefer not to discuss that,” Edith says shortly, removing shortcakes from the oven just before they burn.

“It isn’t my place to say this,” Enola begins, and Edith actually snorts. Enola frowns. “It really isn’t, but I know you, and I know my brother, and I think he’s more determined for things to succeed than you give him credit for.” She looks at her left hand. “In more ways than just this.”


	8. Chapter 8

Sherlock sends word for Mycroft to meet him at the club. He has been thinking, and the only logical solution is to go ahead and propose to Edith. Once they are engaged to be married, they can be seen together without embarrassment; Sherlock has no qualms in making her his partner for life.

“What’s so urgent, little brother? Surely you don’t need Scotland Yard’s assistance.”

“No.” Sherlock lays the newspaper aside. “I called you here to inform you of my intent to marry.”

“Indeed, Sherlock, this is a surprise. No that it isn’t past time...well, who is she?”

“Miss Edith Grayston.” Sherlock enunciates her name, studying Mycroft’s face for signs of recognition. His brother frowns. “The lady who helped me find Enola.”

“The feminist?”

“Yes.”

Mycroft’s face twists, but his voice surprises Sherlock; it’s terribly calm, nearly threateningly so. 

“What could possibly possess you to think she is an acceptable addition to the Holmes family, an acceptable choice to hold our family name? Father would turn in his grave.”

“Mother, I think, would approve.”

“Be that as it may….no. I forbid it. She is entirely unsuitable; a radical feminist a working woman, and she isn’t our kind, Sherlock.”

“‘Not our kind?’ Edith is far better suited to politics than you are, and who are you to forbid me? Who died and placed you in total charge of the family’s affairs?”

“Father,” Mycroft said shortly.

“And yet, elder brother, I have the right, as does any Englishman, to marry as I please, and I choose to ask Edith to marry me.”

“You will not see reason.”

“I believe you to be unreasonable, but the result is the same.” Mycroft stood and nodded briefly.

“Good day, little brother,” he said, leaving Sherlock to contemplate how he might propose to Edith.


	9. Chapter 9

Edith has no interest in convincing Mycroft she has no intention of marrying Sherlock, but she does wonder why he thinks it’s necessary to order her not to.

“I know not how you’ve bewitched my brother, but you must swear that you harbor no intentions toward him.”

“I’ll swear no such thing. My life is my own, as Sherlock’s is his, and neither is any of your concern.” She eyes the door pointedly. “Good day, Mr. Holmes.” Mycroft  _ harrumphs  _ and exits, slamming the door.

When he is gone, she breathes a deep sigh of relief; he was too occupied with interrogating her about Sherlock to notice the books on her shelves.  _ Where would he have gotten such a ridiculous idea?  _ Anyone could have seen them at the theatre, but she doubts anyone saw them in her doorway. Even that would require an irrational leap to marriage, not that Mycroft is what she’d call rational, giving how he handled Enola.

Right. Enola knows enough of what has transpired between Edith and Sherlock in the last six months, and while Edith might balk at asking a girl twelve years younger for advice, the girl in question is engaged, and Edith feels rather desperate.

_ Where would Mycroft have gotten that idea? _ The most obvious explanation is that Sherlock said something, but there is no reason Edith can imagine that he would. Sherlock has called with obvious infrequency since he took her to the theatre. In fact, he hasn’t called at all. Respect for her refusal, perhaps, but entirely unlike him.  _ I should visit him _ , she thinks. As soon as the shop closes for the evening,  _ to apologise _ .

No sooner has she made up her mind than Sherlock himself arrives at the door to the kitchen.

“May I speak with you?” She nods mutely.


End file.
